


Cell Blocks C & D

by ObeyDontStray



Series: In Another Life (AU collection) [7]
Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Jailhouse au, New Neighbors AU, Partners in Crime au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9472835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObeyDontStray/pseuds/ObeyDontStray
Summary: Jim Hopper leads a pretty boring life in jail until he gets moved into a new cell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (Meeting in jail, new neighbors, and partners in crime AUs)
> 
> Much thanks to my Mommy for helping me pick their crimes. She and I watch countless hours of crime shows and it finally paid off somehow lol.

"Hey Knuckles, you leaving me?" Kelly asked as Jim shuffled by in full chain regalia. Handcuffs, waist belt, ankle cuffs. The works. Jim Hopper had a reputation for violence, even if he had been on his best behavior as of late. With two full sleeves of tattoos and standing over six feet, he made an imposing figure. He'd requested a move before things got nasty with his cellmate. The guy spoke about women in a disgusting manner and Jim's patience for it was beginning to thin. He'd liked being able to talk to Kelly through the grate in the wall, though. 

"Gonna miss ya man." He said to the black man as he passed his window. Kelly was a good guy and during the time that Jim had occupied his cell alone, he and Kelly had become good friends. "Take care of yourself, Knuckles."

The guards marched Jim down the corridor, quite a distance from Kelly. He lamented the loss of his friend but was thankful for the change. He wondered who he'd be housed to next, wondered if he'd be interesting enough to talk to. 

He was surprised to see they were giving him the last cell on the block. There's a door between the two blocks just outside his new cell. That may work to his advantage if he likes his new neighbor. 

 

.  
It took Jim and hour or so to get his cell just how he liked it. Like everyday, he sat aside an hour to work out. A little shadow boxing, a hundred pushups, a few crunches. He didn't mind the bit of extra baggage he carried around his middle. He cared more about his strength. 

He glanced at the grate in the wall again and realized he hadn't heard a peep from the next room. Maybe the next cell was empty? He lay down on the floor next to it and crossed his arms under his head. "Hello?" He called into the darkness. 

"H-hello?" A female's voice? Was the next cell block for the women?

"I didn't realize the next block was for females. Sorry. I just got moved here today." He apologized. 

"I heard." She replied. "I'm Joyce." 

"Jim." He replied and he heard the sounds of her moving closer to the grate and imagined her mirroring him, laying on the floor just on the other side of the wall. 

"How long you been here, Joyce?" He asked. 

"Three years. I'm getting out soon." 

"Hey, me too. I'm getting out soon too." He replied. "I got sentenced to five. Pulled an extra year for a fist fight my first week here." 

"What did you do?" She asked lowly. 

"Assault and battery. It was a big misunderstanding but I had a fight with my neighbor over something and I ended up hitting the guy." 

"You got five years just for punching someone?" She asked, her voice showing a hint of surprise. 

"I don't play around sweetheart. When I punch someone, I intend to start and end it with one punch." He laughed. "What did you do?"

"I wrote one too many bad checks, forged my sleaze ball ex's name." 

"What an outlaw." He teased. 

"I had two boys to feed. Had to do something." She replied. "I understand completely." He replied. 

 

.  
Days turned into months, so Jim formed a new routine. Wake up, bathroom, groom, eat. Tell Joyce good morning. Work out for an hour. Read. Off to the rec yard for an hour. Eat again. Wait for Joyce to get back from her hour on the rec yard and to talk to her for a few hours. Wait for her to get back when she left for her shift making license plates. Continue talking to her. Tell her goodnight. Bathroom, brush teeth again, bed. 

He knew a few things about the girl next door by now. She had told him she spent a good bit of time drawing on whatever scrap of paper she could get her hands on. Outside she had worked at a department store. She laughed the first time she heard a guard call him Knuckles. She had said that was the lamest nickname she had ever heard and she refused to ever call him by it. Her boys' names were Jonathan and Will and they were currently living with her sleazy ex in Indianapolis. 

One night she confessed she didn't know much in the way of country music and he sang 'I Walk the Line' to her. Surely everyone knew that one. She admitted she didn't but she liked it when he sang to her. So began the tradition of him singing a country song to her every night before bed. 

He confessed he had never read her favorite book, 'The Heart is a Lonely Hunter'. So like his song to her every night, she began reading to him. A chapter a night. Then, after much coaxing from him, she began passing him slips of paper through the grate. Her drawings were faint lines in pen. Flowers, animals, lyrics from the songs he'd sing to her. The wall of his cell where the grate was slowly grew a collection of her artwork. He promised her that when he got out he'd get something of her's tattooed. At night he'd lay in his cot and ponder just which drawing he'd get and where he would put it. 

After pondering on something else for several nights, he finally brought up a topic to her that had been bothering him. The woman on the other side of the wall could be anyone. He found himself pondering what the woman with the sweet voice could possibly look like. 

She laughed at his question. "I dunno. My hair's long now, kinda auburn. I have brown eyes." He wished there was some way he could see her. "What about you?" She asked. 

"I'm heavily tattooed. Dark blonde hair. Bearded. Blue eyes." 

"Blue eyes are my favorite." 

 

.  
One afternoon she sounded a bit sad. "What's wrong?" He asked her. 

"They're letting me out tomorrow, Jim." He smiled broadly. "That's great! Back to your boys!" 

"Yeah. To be honest, I'm a little bummed out about it. And I really shouldn't be. I mean I'm glad to be getting back to my boys but...how do I do this Jim? How do I get out of my routine and back into the real world?" 

He rolled onto his back on the hard floor, tucking an arm under his head. "If anyone can do it, it's you sweetheart." He told her softly. "You deserve a life outside these walls, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise." 

"I haven't finished reading you the book."

"It'll give me something to look forward to when I get out." He teased. 

"I'm going to miss you, Jim."

"You better write me when you get out, Ma'am." He informed her. 

"Of course I will." 

 

.  
The next morning they went through their motions together. When the guards came for her she was laying on the floor next to the grate. "Goodbye, Jim." She sighed. "I'll write, I promise." 

"Goodbye, sweetheart." He wanted to tell her something more, but decided against it. 

 

.  
The day she left, one of the guards slipped him her copy of 'The Heart is a Lonely Hunter'. He finished reading it that very day. She did write, several times a week. He asked her to visit him but she told him she couldn't afford to drive three towns over to visit every week, as much as she'd like to. She and her boys had moved to the town she grew up in, Hawkins.

These days, he spent a good chunk of his day staring at her drawings on the wall. Someone new moved into her cell, but he didn't bother talking to them.

In a letter, Joyce informed him she was pretty fond of Jonny Cash and Waylon Jennings now, but she preferred their songs the way he sang them. 

During rec hour one day he got a buddy to tattoo a lyrics from 'Walk the Line' on the back of his hand, just as she had written in one of her letters. 'I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.'

 

.  
The pen shook in Jim's hand as he wrote his latest letter to Joyce. 

'They're letting me out in a week. Any way I can meet you?'

When her next letter suggested she could meet him at the gate, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the day. 

 

.  
The day came and Jim slipped into his jeans and flannel shirt he was wearing the night he got arrested. His boots were worn and dirty and reminded him of the construction job he had before everything went to shit. 

He combed his hair in the tiny mirror above toilet one last time. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. 

He packed away her drawings and letters with care. He kept everything. 

 

.  
Jim squinted in the sunlight. His heart leapt in his throat when he realized the front gate was empty. Joyce had lied. With a sigh he picked up his bag and began walking, whistling and trying to ease the pain. 

He had walked a mile, soaked down with sweat, when a car pulled up behind him. He didn't bother to turn around. He faintly thought about how the fan belt was squeaking in the car. It probably needed some repair.

"Hey Knuckles!" A woman's voice called from behind him. When he turned to look over his shoulder, a small woman with auburn hair stood behind him. "Jim. I'm sorry I ran late. Traffic." She jogged, closing the distance between them, and stopped short to stare up into his face. He heard her breath catch. "Blue eyes are still my favorite." 

He dropped his bag and bent low to take her face in his hands. A smile spread across his face as he smoothed his thumbs across her cheeks. "You didn't tell me you were so beautiful." When she gave him a shy smile he kissed her. 

"How do you feel about Hawkins, Indiana?" She asked against his lips.


End file.
